Sandy eBook

“Yas, sir; but de doctor he up and lied.
He tol’ him you’d went back to de umerversity.
De doctor ’lowed ef he tole him de trufe it might
throw him into a political stroke.”

Sandy leaned his head on his hand. “You’re
the only one that’s stood by me, Aunt Melvy;
the rest of them think me a bad lot.”

“Dat’s right,” assented Aunt Melvy,
cheerfully. “You jes orter hear de way
dey slanders you! I don’t ‘spec’
you got a friend in town ‘ceptin’ me.”
Then, as if reminded of something, she produced a card
covered with black dots. “Honey, I’s
gittin’ up a little collection fer de church.
You gib me a nickel and I punch a pin th’u’
one ob dem dots to sorter certify it.”

“Have you got religion yet?” he asked
as he handed her some small change.

Her expression changed, and her eyes fell. “Not
yit,” she acknowledged reluctantly; “but
I’s countin’ on comin’ th’u’
before long. I’s done j’ined de Juba
Choir and de White Doves.”

“Lor’, honey! ain’t I tol’
you ’bout dat? De very night de jedge was
shot, dat chile wrote her paw de sassiest letter, sayin’
she gwine run off and git married wif dat sick boy,
Carter Nelson. De doctor headed ‘em off
some ways, and de very nex’ day what you think
he done? He put dat gal in a Cafolic nunnery
convent! Dey say she cut up scan’lous at
fust, den she sorter quiet down, an’ ‘gin
to count her necklace, an’ make signs on de
waist ob her dress, an’ say she lak it so much
she gwine be a Cafolic nunnery sister herself.
Now de doctor’s jes tearin’ his shirt
to git her out, he’s so skeered she’ll
do what she says.”

Sandy laughed in spite of himself, and Aunt Melvy
wagged her head knowingly.

“He needn’t pester hisseif ’bout
dat. Now Mr. Carter’s ’bout to die,
an’ you’s shut up in jail, she’s
done turnin’ her ’tention on Mr. Sid Gray.
Dey ain’t no blinds in de world big enough to
keep dat gal from shinin’ her eyes at de boys!”

“Is Carter about to die?” Sandy had become
suddenly grave.

“Yas, sir; so dey say. He’s got somepin’
that sounds lak tuberoses. Him and Mrs. Nelson
and Miss Rufe never did git to Californy. Dey
stopped off in Mobile or Injiany, I can’t ricollec’
which. He took de fever de day dey lef’,
an’ he ain’t knowed nothin’ since.”

After Aunt Melvy left, Sandy went to the window and
leaned against the bars. Below him flowed the
life of the little town, the men going home from work,
the girls chattering and laughing through the dusk
on their way from the post-office. Every figure
that passed, black or white, was familiar to him.
Jimmy Reed’s little Skye terrier dashed down
the street, and a whistle sprang to his lips.

How he loved every living creature in the place!
For five years he had been one of them, sharing their
interests, part and parcel of the life of the community.
Now he was an outcast, an alien, as much a stranger
to friendly faces as the lad who had knelt long ago
at the window of a great tenement and had been afraid
to be alone.